Alien
by coffeewithsnark
Summary: Missing scene from Jealousy, in which Graves isn't exactly the communicative type. Oneshot, Dru/Graves.


_Disclaimer_: Absolutely no money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. The lyrics are "Alien" by Thriving Ivory, everything else belongs to Ms. St. Crow.

**A/N**: This is just a little one-shot I wrote while taking a break from my current WIP. It takes place during _Jealousy_ and contains some minor spoilers. The first two lines are taken directly from the book.

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**Alien**

"We should go to Nordstroms," Benjamin muttered for the fiftieth time.

I rolled my eyes. "There's nothing at a Nordstroms I need or want. Overpriced junk that'll fall apart."

I ambled down the aisle, occasionally plucking at a price tag. When I finally found a color of t-shirt that I liked, I tugged it out and threw it in the cart, not bothering to look over my shoulder and see what the other _djamphir_ were doing. Graves sidled up to me, fabric of his how-familiar coat brushing my arm as he smirked. "Having fun?"

"Obviously. Don't I strike you as the shopping type?"

He shrugged, long fingers tapping restlessly against the plastic cart handle. Goth Boy was probably itching for a cigarette by now. I surprised us both by reaching over and covering his hand with mine, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go. We had our backs to the rest of the group, so it's not like anybody could even tell what had happened. Nonetheless, high flags of color appeared on his cheeks, a dark sort of burgundy that blended nicely with the rest of his golden skin. It was a good look on him.

I turned away, pretending to find a table of sweaters fascinating, before I started blushing too. _Jesus_. At the rate we were going, I'd be lucky if I could get a straight answer on how he felt about me sometime this century. Ninety-five percent of the time, Graves and I get along pretty well. We've got practically the same tastes in books and music, and we both have a mutual interest in surviving to see next week. What I really like about him, though, is his ability to read between the lines without me having to come out and say everything. The majority of the time, the kid could read me like a book. Which was a little unnerving, having somebody around who could read me so well, but also kind of cool, you know? Reassuring.

So why, then, all that seemed to disappear as soon as the possibility of a liplock came into play was anybody's guess. Maybe he was gay. It would be my luck, right? Except that I wasn't pretty certain he wasn't. I mean, he admitted that he liked me. We were just _being careful_, whatever the hell that meant.

After we'd finished shopping, we ended up jam-packed into a dingy booth at some hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. We just barely fit into a single booth, with me crammed in between Leon and Graves. Graves stretched his long legs into the aisle as he lit up a cigarette, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes.

I practically gagged, swatting away the smoke. "Seriously, Graves."

"Sorry," he muttered, not appearing sorry in the slightest. He tapped the cigarette in the ashtray, then went back to inhaling his cancer stick. I scowled but didn't respond, stuffing another tortilla chip into my mouth. Goth Boy had seemed downright cheerful while we were at Target, but his mood had taken a turn for the worse now that we were eating. I wanted to ask him what his deal was, but knew he wouldn't appreciate it with the other _djamphir_ sitting right there.

Our waitress finally arrived with our orders, for which I was grateful. Since arriving at the Schola Prima, my appetite had been pretty much nonexistent. Surprisingly enough, I was starving now, attacking the chimichanga with relish. The corner of Graves's eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched me eat but he didn't say anything, and he set to work on his taco.

Towards the end of our meal, I elbowed Graves in the side none-too-gently. "I have to use the bathroom."

As he stood up to let me pass, I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him behind one of the fake plastic trees decorated with tiny lights. "I don't really think you need my help for this," he argued, stuffing the last bite of taco into his mouth and following me reluctantly.

Once we were alone, I turned to him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Alright, Goth Boy. Talk."

"About?" He studied the tree intently, as if it was the most fascinating thing he'd seen in awhile. I rolled my eyes, waving one hand in front of his face to get his attention.

"I think you've seen a fake tree before, Graves. What's up with the Dr-Jekyll-Mr-Hyde act? One minute you're fine, the next you're sulking in the corner."

He scowled at that, finally looking at me directly. His green eyes glittered in the dim lighting, making them appear darker than normal. "I am _not_ sulking. It's just pretty apparent that those other guys don't want me here, that's all."

"And you care why?" When he didn't answer, I leaned closer and squeezed his arm, feeling my fingers sink into muscle. He'd really bulked up since getting bitten. "Graves, listen to me. _I _want you here, okay? Fuck the other guys."

"No, thanks." But a small, grudging smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah." I'd leaned over to make my point, and now our faces were only a few inches apart. Close enough to feel his warm breath brush my face, and see the little flecks of gold in his irises. I had the sudden, awful urge to close the gap and press my mouth to his. Of course, I'd learned my lesson there, and I was pretty sure Graves would not appreciate me throwing myself at him in a public place. I grimaced, and started to pull away. "We should—"

Goth Boy surprised me then by reaching forward with one large hand, fingertips pressing lightly just behind my jaw. I froze. Slowly, achingly, he traced his thumb along my jaw line, and I could feel my skin burn from the touch. I'm sure my mouth was hanging open at this point, but it's not like I could bring myself to care.

He stopped, hand still cradling my face, and we both held very, very still, just staring at each other. I didn't dare move, much less breathe. Oddly enough, I was pretty sure his hand was shaking slightly. He licked his lips once, and the spell was broken.

Graves stepped back, almost tripping over the electrical cord leading from the wall to the tree, face flaming and looking anywhere but me. "I, um, should go back."

"Right." I felt dazed, and fought the urge to trace my fingers along my cheek. "I'll just go, uh, use the bathroom."

He practically bolted back to the table, and I stumbled into the bathroom, leaning forward and squinting into the mirror. I looked a little shell-shocked, but otherwise normal. What the hell had just happened?

I could feel a goofy grin stretching across my face for the rest of the afternoon. I still had no fucking clue where we stood, but this had to be progress, right?

As we left the restaurant, Graves and I trailing behind the rest of the _djamphir_ boys, I jumped as I felt one large, warm hand close over mine. I glanced over at him, but Goth Boy stared straight ahead, telltale blush spreading over his high cheekbones. It wasn't a declaration of his feelings toward me, but it would do for now. I curled my fingers through his as we stepped out into the sunlight.

_Oh, alien_

_You'll be just fine,_

_You've always been beautiful_

_to me... _

**FIN**

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****A/N: **As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think.**  
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